Fall
forgiveness It doesn't take much for friends to fall apart. But coming back together, that takes courage. ---- i''' Interesting how a single argument tore apart a relationship that had been built over the course a year. Skipper kicked at the remaining patches snow that had fallen over Possibility, that had yet to melt, feeling shattered inside but refusing to admit it. Angry, yes. She wasn't afraid to show that. She growled at a nearby mouse, and it scampered away. The fight played over in her mind, and again, she blamed Glide for it. She blamed Glide for everything that had happened. It was her own fault, but Skipper wasn't ready to admit that. Not yet. She entered her cottage, looking over the surroundings. It looked bare, lacking the golden scales of her sister that usually came by. She shook her head and hardened her thoughts. It. Was. All. Glide's. Fault. Skipper sighed, then placed her bag of coins under her pillow. She climbed into her bed, missing her sister, angry at her, her mind a muddle. I hate her. As Skipper drifted off, she knew that thought wasn't true, but wanted to think it was. Glide's fault. Not her own. That night she fell into a light, uneasy sleep. ---- '''ii Glide stared at herself in the mirror of the cottage she was staying in. She'd left the cottage, leaving Skipper angry with her. Slinging a pack on her back containing all her prized possessions, she'd run. What did I do, Skip? Where did I go wrong without you by my side? '' Poking through those possessions now, she noticed a small scrap of old paper at the bottom, a doodle of two dragons. Two dragonesses, one with golden scales and another with red. ''Skipper's ''doodle. Her talons trembled, moving to rip it and destroy a bond connecting her. But she wouldn't do it. She couldn't. ''I can't renounce my sister. '' Relationships built over a year. Built on whispers, quiet smiles, and secrets only big enough for two. Worn down, slowly, slowly, secrets kept away from each other in malice, forming holes in the wall, becoming harder to patch with every rip. Eventually, the rip had grown too large. Dropping the map, she fled. Fled, fled from the little cottage in the valley. Fled into the valley she had run to all those times when she and her sister had a fight. Glaring at nothing, thinking of her sister, angry with her for being so ''stupidly stubborn ''and always getting irrationally angry. Two hours later, sunset found her sitting there at the edge of the water, moodily staring at two ducks swimming. ''Two ducks like two sisters. She wasn't angry anymore. Just upset, concerned about her sister, and wondering what she'd do. Rising, for the first time in hours, she slipped back into the cottage. Dropping on the small bed of leaves, her last waking thought whispered Skipper. It wasn't just me. But I'm sorry. ---- iii Skipper glared at the rising sun, as if she could incinerate it with her eyes. She was still angry, yes. As angry as a week ago. Kind of. Her mind was still filled with anger and knowingly misplaced blame, but there was something else, something quieter, maybe better than the other feeling. Reason? She dug through her memories, searching for the first slip. The first secret. The time when everything started going wrong. She sat there, quiet for a time. She sighed, stretching her wingbuds before walking toward the edge of Possibility, to the Diamond Spray River. She sat there, submerged in the water, thinking. Her mind brushed over what she remembered. And she knew. She was the one who started this. The one to blame. The anger diverted. Toward herself. Skipper closed her eyes. Angry at herself. And lonely. A tiny tear splashed into the water. ---- iv Glide, staring at the rising orb, wondered if somewhere her sister was seeing it too. It was a good friend. Very dependable. Every day it would rise and fall. She stood, unsure of what to do. Usually, she would spend time with her sister, roaming the forest. Her feet carried her to the cave she called home, her fingers poking through the satchel automatically, pulling out a worn journal and ink. Lying there on the ground, she began to write. Writing, writing, and more writing. She wrote until her talon ached and refused to move anymore. Writing about the first time she met Skipper, the first time she'd found something to share with her, the first image Skipper had given her, the first drawing Skipper had taught her to draw. All Skipper. Afternoon. The sun was bright overhead. Her talon was stained with ink that wouldn't wash off, no matter how she scrubbed. Squinting her eyes, she looked for clouds. The day was windy. There weren't any. She plucked a dandelion from the ground and twirled it in her talons. Pulling another and tying them together, making a long, long chain of them wasted her afternoon. I will not think about that. I made a promise that I have and will keep. Occupy yourself. ---- v''' Completely awash with anger. Skipper curled into herself in the cave behind the waterfall, letting the blame rush through her like the water nearby. She felt mist spray against her scales, chilling her. She tightened more into herself. All my fault. All of it. She was to blame, and she had still exploded on Glide, screaming until her voice had fragmented, storming away in a blaze that had washed away all reason. All my fault. And now what? She was alone, freezing behind roaring waters, with only the noise and her thoughts for company. The anger was dwindling, leaving behind only loneliness... and guilt. All my fault. The thought was getting repetitive. She hoped, she wished, she could find Glide. Let all the guilt out, as to be friends again. No. Glide would just leave her alone, let her rot away in the turbulent emotions. All my fault. Stupid thought. Wish it could shut up. Glide had been the first friend to really understand her obsession. The time together was great. She had taught Glide, and Glide blossomed, and... jealousy. The feeling that Glide was better at, well, everything, even though Skipper came first. The jealousy. It made her want to blame Glide for everything, and found a way to do it. And, well... She should find Glide. Skipper stayed behind the waterfall, chilled to the bones, tired, crying, and alone. All alone, until night came at last. She left the waterfall, perhaps to find Glide and forgiveness, or just drown in the sadness, and let it consume her. All my fault. ---- '''vi It was raining. Well, not really. Just a light mist. Glide loved it. This was her favorite kind of weather. Gray and dreary, but at the same time refreshing and gentle, like the softest breeze on a summer day. She took a deep breath in, letting the mist wash over her. This was perfect. Except- No. She told herself firmly. I will not think about that. And just like that, she felt a little bit worse inside. She growled a little. Even when she wasn't there, Skipper had ruined her day. Skipper had been her friend, though. They'd grown close, like two cherries. Shut up, the little voice said firmly said in her head. You have other friends. Go find them. Leave her behind. You don't need her. But at the same time, she did. Oh well, Glide resigned herself. You might as well visit them. She sighed again and began the long trek that led to someone else's house. ---- vii It was the end of the world. More like the end of the day, as the sun hung low, sending graceful shadows dancing though Possibility. The sky was painted delicate shades of purple and pink, muted and swirled by a light mist, but Skipper wasn't in the mood for the light show. It felt like the end of the world, then. She stared at the door she stopped in front of, studying the oak arch and the gaudy brass handle, the weathered scars the wood had earned. Anything to take her mind off the doorbell. It was small and yellow, a long rectangular button. And Glide was on the other side. Skipper took a slow breath, trying to stop herself from stalling. She pressed the button, hearing the low dong, muffled by the door between her and her sister. And... Nothing happened. Glide probably wasn't home. Off looking through the stalls, in her secret hiding spots, or maybe visiting some other friends. The last thought stung more than it should have. Skipper let out another long breath, counting how many seconds it allowed her to stall. Only eighteen. She let out another one, digging though her bag for her paper and pencil, items she brought everywhere. And she wrote a note. It was short, mostly reminding of everything she and Glide had done together, all the laughter and silly arguments, all the fun. All the joy that the world now lacked. I forgive you, for everything ...but can you forgive me? Skipper allowed herself one more breath before she slid the note in the space between the door and the floor. Let Glide find it when she wanted it. The little red SilkWing walked away, feeling one more weight lift away. Glide could ignore it, or yell that the two of them weren't friends anymore, and would never be together ever again. But at least she had done her best. ---- viii Twilight. Stars glistening like the night was a blanket, covering the light behind, leaving small holes for them to shine through. Quiet tranquility. Crickets chirping and wind rustling through long grass. Glide sighed, the smiles and fake happiness she had worn for the past few days sliding off. She felt around for the key at the bottom of her bag. Its cold metal was a comfort. She clenched it in her hand, the jagged spikes cutting into her hand. She loosened before it cut her. She liked her other friends, she did. But sometimes she had to make sure an effort to be with them. Like she had to be someone else entirely. She couldn't be stubborn, grumpy, bossy Glide. She was rude Glide. She was immature Glide. She was responsible Glide. She was anyone but herself. Except for with- no. Glide shook her head, letting the wind blow off her thoughts. She slid the key into the lock and twisted it, unlocked her door to a dark home. Stepping over the threshold, her foot crunched on a small piece of paper. She looked down. Some mail was there, lying on top of something- a small piece of folded paper was there, full of Skipper-ness. Only she would leave a message under Glide's door. Her fingers trembled. She almost started to open it before putting it down and reading other messages before Skipper's. Trash, trash... seen this before. The messages were shorter than she would have liked. She unfolded the paper. Ten words. A small smile spread over a brief thought of a scowl. A nasty voice whispered in her head. She's only coming back once everyone she has is gone, you don't need her... Pushing that thought away with a firm shove, she read and reread the note, still standing just inside the door. A note found itself under Skipper's door by dawn. '' there's nothing left that needs to be forgiven. '' ---- ix Skipper yawned, rubbing her eyes as she awoke to sunlight streaming through her windows. She had slept late. And much better than she had in over a month. She vaguely remembered getting up and having breakfast, brushing her teeth and everything, before deciding to take a walk. To relax a little and not think about certain things. That changed the moment she saw the crumpled slip of paper, lying under her door, speckled with fine particles of dust. She didn't know what was worse, knowing who it came from, or wondering what was inside. Skipper carefully smoothed it out, shutting her door as she walked slowly back indoors. Her eyes flickered over the words for a full eight times before the message set in. Eight times for eight words. Eight, rather messily scrawled words that suddenly lifted a veil from the world, make everything seem, well, okay again. The next breath came easily, as Skipper's features brightened, and a smile tugged her lips until a full grin shined. A sound escaped her mouth. Not of triumph, though it was, partly. A mixture of feelings, deep and profound, demanding her to grab her notebook, tearing out a tiny scrap, and hastily writing something on it, her heart fluttering brightly again, joyously celebrating the other scrap of paper. The sun gleamed, shining though a tiny scrap, illuminating it as it floated gently, slowly, to a rest on Glide's doorknob. It lacked words, instead sporting a single, quick, but colored sketch. Of two hearts. �� Category:Fanfictions Category:Content (Cloud the IceWing) Category:Fanfictions (Completed) Category:Fanfictions (Fanon) Category:Collaborations Category:Content (ForestFire28) Category:Genre (Short Story)